Chapter 12: Dancing in the Moonlight

Leo Tyrell grimaced as he heard his father cursing up a storm inside his study. As a dutiful son, it was his duty to calm his father down but he knew it was an impossible task. His father has a good reason to be this upset tonight.

Leo may be young but he knew House Tyrell was standing on shaky ground. His grandfather was a strong man, an intelligent man even. His grandfather managed to snatch Highgarden after the fall of House Gardner by surrendering to King Aegon Targaryen. It was a shrewd move that elevated House Tyrell from mere stewards to the lordship of Highgarden and all the lands that came with it.

It was a dark day for his father when his grandfather lost his life in the Dornish War. He was young then but he still remembered his father's pain and anguish. In some ways, his father blamed the Targaryens for his grandfather's death.

Leo thought it unfair. His grandfather died on his own terms trying to maintain House Tyrell's hold on the Reach. His father has been, since then, fighting a shadow war in the Reach. A web of intricate alliances was built by his father building upon the work of his grandfather.

But all that work can be undone if House Targaryen withdraws its support. And today's incident has strained that relationship.

Leo knew his father was not on the best terms with King Aegon. After his grandfathers fall his father had behaved most uncouth towards the King. Yet King Aegon had forgiven his father, understanding that his father was merely speaking unfavourably from the pain of grandfather's untimely demise.

Later, when his lord father had calmed down he had made amends with the King who was also grieving for his wife.

Despite all that, the King was someone that ought to be kept content for the very survival of House Tyrell. This was why his father had thrown a lot of gold, time and energy in receiving the King and the Prince with great pomp. Lavish feasts, music and an expensive tourney were all organized to show proper respect to the King and to show House Tyrell's commitment to the Royal House.

But now, because of one incident, House Tyrell's position is in jeopardy. The crier insulted the King by omitting the title of King of Rhyonar today morning. It was the worst insult a vassal could inflict upon the King especially when it reminded the King of his failure and loss in the Dornish Conquest.

His father had a private discussion with King Aegon right after the end of the tourney. By the looks of it, the conversation did not go well. Ever since that private discussion his father had locked himself away in his private study and cursing up a storm.

It then fell to Leo to seek out the crier. The man should be punished and should apologise to the King for the insult. He doubted that will remove the stain of insult King Aegon felt but House Tyrell has to appease the King someway. That's why Leo sent loyal knights after the crier and waited outside his father's study for his father to calm down.

The clunking of boots shook him away from his thoughts. His uncle Basil Tyrell was the new arrival. He had charged his uncle to bring the crier.

"Uncle, where is the crier?" Leo asked

Just before his uncle could respond the door to his father's study burst open with a bang.

"Basil! I want that crier found. I want that lowlife present before me and I want his skull crushed beneath my feet." Theo Tyrell howled in rage.

"Father. Please calm down." Leo tried to hold his father's hand but his father swatted his hand away.

"I will calm down when I see that fool's head on a spike." Theo Tyrell shouted

"In that case, you better find some other way to calm down brother." said Basil Tyrell

"What do you mean uncle?" asked Leo surprised by his uncle's words.

"The crier is nowhere to be found. I had the castle combed for the man but he is nowhere to be seen." said Basil Tyrell

"That's impossible!"

Leo heard his father yell and he held his father back lest he takes his rage out on his uncle accidentally.

"Unfortunately for us, that's the truth. No one has seen the crier leave the tourney grounds. I searched extensively and I questioned every servant in our employ. No one saw the crier leave."

"Then that means someone in the tourney grounds, one of the contesting knights, smuggled the crier away posing as one of their entourage." Leo theorised "But why…unless…"

"Unless what?" his father asked

"Unless the crier did what he was supposed to do." his uncle whispered worriedly. "That everything was planned and the crier may have been paid by our enemies."

"Then we shall take this to the King right away. Explain ourselves before the king." Leo suggested

"No." his father said making Leo blink confusedly.

"But why? The King will surely…"

"…won't believe a word we would say. Even if we somehow manage to convince the King this is the work of our enemies, we will only further show our weakness before the King." said his father with a dejected look.

"Your father is right. If House Tyrell can't keep control of a single servant how will we hope to maintain control of the Reach? This will be the thought the King will have if we bother to present the King with the truth."

Leo heard his father grunt in agreement.

Leo let out a frustrated sigh as he came to the same conclusion as his father and uncle after a brief bit of thinking.

"So, what will we do?" he asked the question

He watched his father and uncle exchange a look. It always baffled him how smoothly his father and uncle could read each other.

"We will have to punish someone." said his uncle.

"Aye. We don't have the crier but we will present a man that wrote the welcoming speech for the crier. A disposable man who will be generously compensated by a bag of gold that will see his family taken care of." said his father

"Hmm… perhaps even a permanent job in the castle for the family. In exchange, the man serves at the Wall for the rest of his natural life at the farthest edge of the known world." said his uncle before nodding to his father and clapping comfortingly on Leo's shoulder. "I shall make the arrangements."

"I shall try my best to appease the King while you look for the crier discreetly among the camps of our guests. Take men you trust and know by name."

"Yes, father." Leo bowed before he too took his leave wondering who would have plotted this plan. The plausible culprits were many as there were many knights and lords that would love to see House Tyrell removed from Highgarden present at the venue.

It just meant his job became that much harder.

*******

"Is it done?" asked Franklyn Hightower

"Of course, Ser Franklin. The crier is being escorted to Oldtown as we speak." answered Ser Ben Beesbury

"Will he reach the city safely?" asked Franklyn

"No Ser. A grave has already been prepared on the way as you ordered."

"Good. You may leave."

Franklyn watched coolly as the knight took his leave from his quarters. He sat back in his seat with obvious relief as the plan went smoothly. Of course, he didn't for a moment think this incident would win House Hightower the control of the Reach. But they were one step closer to several goals.

The first being driving a wedge between the King and Theo Tyrell. All things considered, there was already a cooling of relations between the two. This latest incident merely heightened the strain.

'All for the good of House Hightower.' he thought with a strained smile.

It was unknightly of him to use subterfuge but he could not say no to his niece Patrice whom everyone has dubbed as a witch. The label only stuck because his dear niece refused to marry or lay with a man her whole life. Only key members of his House knew that she was more than just a mere witch.

Patrice Hightower is a Greenseer, a powerful one at that. The very foundation of House Hightower's power is built on the magical powers they inherited from their ancestors. The Hightowers were inhabitants of Westeros long before the arrival of First Men. When the First Men came their ancestors welcomed them and assimilated into their society without conflict. The same was true when the Andals arrived at the shores of Westeros.

They have scarcely fought wars preferring diplomacy, coexistence and peace through negotiations. Trade and politics have always been the lifeblood that ensures they produced no committed enemies. All of this happened because their line was blessed with great magical powers.

Unlike the First Men, who stupidly believe their magic came from some gods in trees or those demonic abominations they foolishly call the Children, the Hightowers knew magic bloomed in rare souls. Blood had little to contribute to magic in Westeros or Essos for that matter. Magic has always been the product of the soul. This has been true since the Dawn age and it will continue to remain so for time immemorial.

Since magic remained a powerful weapon House Hightower has always been steadfast in removing it from Westeros. The nature of magic demanded that it should remain in hands that are sound of mind and not of those who are filled with greed and delusions of grandeur. The Hightowers learned that lesson when the Andals invaded and the First Men continued to squabble amongst themselves weakening each other instead of uniting.

Franklyn's musing was cut short when his squire Damien Hightower came into his quarters unannounced.

"Damien, why are you here at this hour?"

"I was approached by Arthur Merryweather."

"Who?" he blinked confusedly

"Arthur Merryweather is the squire of Prince Rhaegar, uncle. He handed me this." said Damien before handing over a scroll of parchment to Franklyn.

"What is this?" he asked as he unravelled the parchment and held it near the lamp to read.

"An invitation. The Prince is hosting a small group of people around a campfire."

Now that was curious. He hoped the prince was not inviting him to boast about his victory in tilts. It took every ounce of his willpower to hand over victory to the prince.

Of all his skills he was most proud of his ability to win tourneys. On a horse, he remained unparalleled and that's why he won almost all the tourneys in the Reach. A snot-nosed brat could hardly scratch him in the tilts. He let the match go in favour of the Prince. He was sure the Tyrells purposefully matched him with the Prince. If he had unhorsed the Prince it was possible the Prince may hold some bitterness against him. It was a chance that he could not take so he let the Prince win.

Despite that, he acknowledged the boy has talent. If the Prince practices more rigorously, he assumed the Prince shall be a good jouster in the future.

Keeping those thoughts aside he decided to accept the invitation. His squire was also invited and so the two of them made their way to the Prince.

Franklyn expected a large gathering, to his surprise, there were few. There was Ser Baelium Brune, Ser Addison Hill, Ser Robin Darklyn, Prince Rhaegar, a boy whom he assumed to be Arthur Merryweather and a dark-skinned man from Summer Islands. All of them were sitting on wooden logs with a fire at the centre where a goat was being browned.

"Welcome, Ser Franklyn." the Prince stood up to greet him.

"Thank you for the invitation, my Prince." he nodded graciously before introducing his squire. "This is Damien Hightower, my squire."

"Ah, learning from one of the best to be a knight, aren't you? Well met." the Prince shook hands with his squire before leading them to the group.

"I hope you all know each other." continued the Prince. "Of course you may not know Elisher Mho."

"A humble bard from the Summer Islands, Ser Hightower." the dark-skinned man introduced himself.

"Not just a mere bard mind you. A good cook as well." said the Prince pointing to the goat covered in spices over the fire.

Franklyn nodded and graciously accepted a cup of ale offered by the Prince. His squire was also offered a cup who graciously accepted as it was offered by the Prince.

"Well, we have plenty to drink. So what shall we drink to?" asked Ser Baelium

"For good food and ale perhaps?" suggested Ser Robin Darklyn

"For good food and ale." they chorused

It was a pleasant night filled with exchanging stories and jokes. Despite his misgivings, Franklyn found Prince Rhaegar a good host. Not a hint of boasting so far and a humble character in his opinion. The Prince easily charmed his squire Damien by regaling his recent adventures near Blueburn. He heard rumours of what happened to the Dornish raiders and found it poetic justice. It was hard to believe that a boy of ten and three had the will to order that kind of harsh punishment for the raiders.

"I heard a tell Lord Manfred Hightower intends to host a tourney in Oldtown. Is this true Ser Franklyn?" asked the Prince startling him.

"Oh, yes. Lord Manfred intends to host a tourney to celebrate the King's visit to Oldtown."

"And I hope you will be participating in the tourney, Ser."

"Of course."

"Good. Good." The Prince nodded and then the easy-going smile was wiped away from the Prince's face. "When we break lances next time, don't hold back. A man learns more from his defeats than his victories."

"My prince?" he looked with wide eyes to the Prince and stared warily at the group who were now silent and observing him.

"Come now, everybody here knows you would have easily unhorsed me today. You shall find that I don't take offence being bested by a skilled knight."

"The Prince won't take offence to anything. You wasted a good victory, Ser Franklyn, for an imagined slight that would have never come to pass." said Ser Baelium

"Yes. Now, because of you, I will be unhorsed by either Ser Baelium or one of the Kingsguard knights. And they won't be as soft as you would have been Ser."

"That's right. We won't be soft at all, my Prince. As I have always said pain is the best teacher and how will you learn anything if you are handed over easy victories." said Ser Addison before biting into a slice of meat.

"Well, now that we all know that my fate is sealed tomorrow I shall sing a song. Since Ser Franklyn gave me my first victory in a tourney I shall repay you with a song." said the Prince before taking on an unusual instrument.

We get it on most every night

When that moon gets so big and bright

It's a supernatural delight

Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody here is out of sight

They don't bark, and they don't bite

They keep things loose, they keep things light

Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's feelin' warm and right

It's such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

We like our fun and we never fight

You can't dance and stay uptight

It's a supernatural delight

Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's feelin' warm and right

It's such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody here is out of sight

They don't bark, and they don't bite

They keep things loose, they keep things light

Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's feelin' warm and right

It's such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's Dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's feelin' warm and right

It's such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's Dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's feelin' warm and right

It's such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's Dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody's feelin' warm and right

It's such a fine and natural sight...